Page 76 of His Wild Duchess
Winnie met George’s stare. “Why do you look so glum, Georgie?”
“He’s lookin’ for Penny,” Freddie whispered in her hair.
Winnie gave him a knowing look. “I see, I see. She went towards her room, Georgie.”
Clearing his throat, George gave them a nod before turning around on his heel, leaving the ballroom before the Millers had any second available to tease him further. As he left the crowds, pausing to give a gentleman a nod every once and a while, George found his heart to be hammering more than usual. Perhaps it was Fred’s words that drove him into feeling nervous, as though he had never spoken to Penelope before. Shaking his head, he tried to push the thoughts away as he drew closer and closer.
Outside her bedroom door, George rapped his knuckles against it gently. “Penelope,” he called out. “Are you well?”
A muffled sound came from the otherside, too far away for him to make out anything clear.
“Penelope,” he repeated, knocking once more.
When she didn’t respond again, George couldn’t help himself. He wrapped a hand around the doorknob, opening it wide as he slipped inside.
The bedroom was dimly lit by a single candle. A figure, bundled up and hunched over, was at the edge of the bed. It was obviously Penelope, her angelic colored dress bright against the shadowy darkness. A shaking hand was pressed over her mouth, still gloved and trembling. A few strands of curls fell across her face as she swayed back and forth, eyes clenched so tight together her entire face was scrunched up. And within it all, shimmering tears streaked down her tanned cheeks like arrows.
“Darling Penelope,” George murmured as he slipped into the room, snapping the door shut behind him. “What ever is the matter?”
Penelope raised her face, lowering her hand for a split second. The moment she tried to open her mouth to speak, but her breath caught in a sudden sob. Her green eyes glanced at him for a moment before squeezing shut once more, her head shaking so hard her hair fell through its pins.
It was obvious that there wouldn’t be any words coming from her anytime soon, not when she was so overcome with emotion. As the contents of the letter quickly slipped from his mind, George surged forward, no longer waiting for her to call for him. Falling into the bed beside her, he eagerly wrapped an arm around her shoulders, easing her against his chest. Penelope letout a shuddering breath the moment she rested upon him, one hand clenching onto his coat tightly. Her perfumes, light and floral, wafted beneath his nose as she wept. To see her so upset was more painful than he ever thought it would be. Suddenly, he was eager to be her knight, to slay the dragons that threatened to impose upon her.
“Relax,” he whispered. “I am here.” The next words that came out his lips felt so right he had no chance to think them over, to stop himself from overstepping or assuming something she did not want. “I willalwaysbe here.”
Something about those simple words seemed to sink in within her. Penelope leaned heavily against him, sighing so hard he thought she had no air in her lungs. He allowed his hand to run up and down her back, applying steady pressure with every touch. Slowly, her breathing began to become normal, aligning with his own. He drew in deep breaths, and she easily mimicked him, her chest rising as much as it could before falling back down. With his other hand, George reached for her hands, beginning to gently tug the gloves off her.
“W-What,” she whispered, voice hoarse from tears, “What’re you doing?”
“Removing your gloves,” he murmured against her hair. “They are far too tight.” Once the first was removed, he laid it across his lap so as to not crease it. “I doubt the pressure of them against your skin did you any good.” He removed the second with a simple tug. “See, darling? Does that help?”
Penelope breathed deeply, her face pressed against his chest. Her words of gratitude came out as a murmur, too muffled for him to truly make out.
“When you are ready,” he said, “I’d like for you to tell me what happened.”
“I-I’m sorry, George.”
Tucking one hand below her chin, George gently tugged her face up to meet his own. She was obviously embarrassed, her eyes flickering to the side to avoid looking at him. But he persisted, his heart cracking at the sight of her flushed cheeks, stained with her fallen tears. He fought the urge to swipe them away, to take her by the shoulders and demand to know what had made her so upset.
“Do not ever,” he whispered, “Ever,think of apologizing for something like this. Do you understand?”
Penelope looked up at him with wide eyes. Without saying a word, she nodded very slowly.
“Now,” he continued. “What happened?”
“I just…” her voice trailed off as she began to sit up. While George was expecting her to remove herself from his embrace, she remained as close as possible to his side, one hand still clutching his coat tightly. “I never expected it to be so much.”
“For what to be so much? The ball?”
“All of it,” she murmured. “Being a Duchess, hosting a ball. Preparing the Manor when I knew little about it in the first place.”
George sighed, feeling a part of him grow guilty, as if he had a role in her sadness. “I did not wish to throw you to the wolves, so to speak.”
“No,” she said, meeting his eyes. “It wasn’t like that at all. I only…I never knew what it would be like to truly be a Duchess. Perhaps this proves that I was not ready for such a thing.”
George frowned. “I believe it makes you more than ready, in a way.”
“How?”
